


their subtle sweetness

by sweetbun_trio



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Feeding, Fluff and Smut, Food, Food as Foreplay, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Hand Feeding, Porn With Plot, Sreng (Fire Emblem), Thickvain, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Weight Gain, post azure moon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26351188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetbun_trio/pseuds/sweetbun_trio
Summary: 5 times Sylvain enjoyed Mercedes’ sweet buns +1 time Mercedes enjoyed the result
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	their subtle sweetness

**Author's Note:**

> For the kinkmeme prompt: 
> 
> Settling into a loving marriage (and, as he is utterly unable to cook for himself, being doted on) has started to show on Sylvain. His confidence remains stable - after all, he’s handsome at any size, and his wife is quick to remind him of that if he dares falter. However, as time (and his figure) progresses, his wife begins to realize this may be something more than domesticity, and may just be something she’s into. Like, in a horny way.

Mercedes and Sylvain decided not to take a honeymoon trip after their wedding. 

“Are you sure?” she asked him.

“I’m sure,” he answered. “There’s nothing I want more right now than to be with you.” He kissed her, hand cradling the back of her head. 

“And believe me,” he went on, always ready to find the humor in a situation, “I can see the irony in my insistence we get right down to settling in.”

She laughed, but it wasn’t especially ironic, Mercedes thought. Sylvain had changed a lot since they were in school together. 

“Okay.” She relented. It did make sense. The war had only just ended a year before, and unrest still flared up across Fodlan frequently. It would be nice to retreat to Gautier and settle into married life. 

“You’ll at least let me make you some treats and we can celebrate together?” she asked. 

“Of course.”

Mercedes took advantage of the large, gleaming kitchen as soon as they moved to the castle. And for her first foray into testing the kitchen she baked the sweet buns she had noticed Sylvain always favored in the Garreg Mach dining hall, and whenever they shared tea and her own baking. 

She felt a tremulous pride flutter inside her as Sylvain’s eyes lit up upon seeing the finished product. It was after dinner on a chilly late autumn evening, their wedding in Fhirdiad only a few short weeks past, and they had settled into their new rooms with a cozy fire. 

“I’ve always loved these,” Sylvain said, taking a bite and closing his eyes, “for as long as I can remember.”

“Mmmm,” she murmured softly, “I remembered that you always liked it when I baked these.”

Sylvain finished his first pastry and licked the crumbs and sugar off his fingers.

“When I was small, the times when Miklan…” he trailed off, then restarted, “when I wasn’t feeling well, the servants would sneak these to me.” He stared into the distance, a faraway look on his face, brows furrowed at the conflicting emotions stirred up by the memories.

Mercedes almost expected him to cry on her shoulder again, but his eyes focused back to the present and he smiled fondly.

“I haven’t thought about that in a long time,” he laughed, taking another bun. He must have seen the concerned look on her face, because he added, “I still love these obviously.”

“Well you may have as many as you like,” she said, beaming.

~

Not long after they began living at the castle, Sylvain’s father passed.

It was the dead of winter and the usual cold weather-related sickness spread through the townsfolk and the castle inhabitants. The Margrave had fallen ill with a fever that did not respond to medicine nor healing magic and was gone within the week. 

Mercedes spent extra time in the chapel during the days following his death, asking the Goddess for forgiveness. She knew it was awful, but the only emotion she could muster was a deep relief. 

The last of the pressure to immediately bear children lifted with the death of Sylvain’s father (although she did, and Sylvain eventually did want that, on their own terms). She could run the household free of the lingering whims and complaints of the former patriarch. She looked forward to expanding her work in the community as well. 

What Mercedes did not expect was Sylvain’s trepidation, his reluctance to step into his new role. He wore a grim expression as he offered his eulogy, dour enough to convince everyone he was actually devastated by the loss. 

She knew better, of course. Objectively, he was doing the best he ever had. The hollow look he’d taken on, that had persisted through the war, was gone. He had gained some weight since their wedding, and although he had griped a bit about it, she assured him that it suited him.

Later they stood awkwardly while nobles from across Faerghus offered condolences at the funeral reception. “I thought I would have more time,” he said. She squeezed his hand before letting go, and coming back with several of the sweet buns she had baked for the event, handing him one. 

“Try to think of it as the beginning,” she said. He’d almost inhaled the sweet like a starving man, and she handed him another. 

“The beginning of what?” he asked, his voice bitter, before he bit into the next bun. The fact that she was able to provide comfort with home cooked food caused Mercedes’ heart to swell. 

“Of your opportunity to change things,” she said. “You have the power to really change everything for the better around here.”

She looked up at him and watched his face as he integrated her advice into his outlook, then she handed him the last sweet bun. He took a bite and chewed, still thoughtful, before saying, “You’re right.”

Later still on that frigid day, they walked hand in hand at the front of the procession to the mausoleum, bundled in furs and woolens. And as his father was laid to rest, it was as if Mercedes could see a weight lift off Sylvain’s shoulders.

~

Sylvain forged ahead into the process of making peace with Sreng once he was Margrave.

If he could break the cycle then maybe the Lance and his Crest would no longer be necessary. Maybe he, and his children, would not be doomed to fight on the northern border. He had read the histories, and he knew he wasn’t the first Margrave to be interested in this undertaking. The difference at this moment was opportunity, as Mercedes said. With the Crown behind him he had a chance.

Sylvain quickly got in the habit of taking his meals while working and spent whole days in his study, all else forgotten. Mercedes often found him bent over his desk and the candles burning low. 

One summer night, she entered Sylvain’s study with a plate full of sweet buns she had just pulled from the oven minutes ago. Stacking some papers, she made a spot to sit on the desk beside where he had fallen asleep and set the plate down in front of him.

He stirred, lifting his face from where it rested on his arms, glasses still on. Sylvain peered groggily around and then at her, a smudge of ink on his cheek. She reached out and pushed the locks of red hair that flopped forward back off his forehead. 

“You don’t need to dote on me like this all the time,” he scolded, but there was no bite behind it. He helped himself to a bun, making a small sound of delight when he tasted how fresh it was.

“I don’t need to,” she sang, the song and dance a familiar one, “but I want to.” 

He straightened up, taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose before lifting his arms up and behind his head to stretch. 

He had untucked his shirt at some point while working and it rode up, exposing a sliver of skin which Mercedes took in, perhaps staring too long. Sylvain pulled the hem of his shirt back down, and said in an amused tone, “See something you like?” 

“Always,” Mercedes said, her usual response. “Maybe even a little extra now,” she added. 

“There is a little extra there,” Sylvain said. He was smiling a lopsided, mischievous smile; a faint pink bloomed across the apples of his cheeks. 

“It’s probably time to have some new clothes made,” she said. For some reason the thought of him outgrowing his clothes made her feel kind of...amorous. 

He stood up and stretched further, putting the heels of his hands on his lower back to push his hips forward. The action was such a familiar one for Sylvain, but now it accentuated the slight outward curve of his stomach.

“Maybe I’d rather keep these for now,” he teased as he leaned back forward toward her. “I kind of like it when you ogle me like that.” 

Mercedes was about to protest that she wasn’t _ogling_ him, but actually...she kind of was. So instead, she closed the distance between them and kissed him. 

“Come to bed,” she said. “It’s late.”

~

“I missed these so much,” Sylvain practically moaned, mouth full of doughy pastry. He chewed and swallowed before continuing. “Every day I tried a new bakery, and they all made these, but none of them measured up. You’re just too good, Mercie, no bakery in Fhirdiad compares.”

He certainly looked like he had eaten sweet buns every day of his visit to the capital. A cute little roll spilled over the waistband of his pants, which looked too tight. And he looked softer all over, the sharpest angles of his figure smoothed away.

He had been gone for a fortnight, finalizing plans with Dimitri for his trip to Sreng later in the year. 

Sylvain flopped back on the bed against the pillows, letting out a heavy sigh before unbuttoning his trousers and pushing them down. Even with the windows thrown open, the summer breeze did little to provide relief from the warm evening. 

Mercedes sank down next to him. “Oh, you poor thing! You’re all red here,” she said. Angry red lines ran across his skin where his waistband had cut into his flesh.

She ran her hands over his middle, the touch soft and light and cautious. He squirmed and arched his back to lean into her fingers

“Please, Mercie,” he groaned. “It’s ok, just touch me. It feels so good.” Mercedes gingerly pressed her hands more firmly against him. After a few moments, she stopped and motioned for him to lift his hips so she could pull his pants all the way off. 

She giggled. “It’s like someone poured you into these. How did you get these on?”

“Just tear them off,” Sylvain laughed. “It’s not like I’m ever wearing these again anyway.” 

“I should think not,” Mercedes said. “I’ll send for a tailor to come as soon as possible so you can have something that fits.” None of his other clothes were going to be suitable anymore either, Mercedes knew. The thought was making her hot and she crossed her legs in an attempt to relieve the ache between them.

Mercedes returned her hand to his stomach, gently kneading as the redness faded. She slid her hand around to the pudge above his hip. Her unabashed admiration of Sylvain’s new body was new, but after two weeks apart, she had realized this went beyond just simply settling into the happy domestic life they were now enjoying.

“You’re looking at me like you want to devour me,” he said. Goddess, he knew what he was doing to her. And he liked that it aroused her. 

“Maybe I do,” she said, voice uncharacteristically pitched low. 

His eyes darkened. “Well come and get it, then,” he said.

~

All of the preparations were complete. Sylvain was about to set out on his journey to Sreng to meet with the clan leaders. But all he seemed to be able to think about the morning of his departure was food.

“I’m going to miss these again while I’m gone,” Sylvain lamented at breakfast as he served himself another sweet bun. 

“I’ll bet there are lots of delicious sweets unique to Sreng that you’ll be able to try!” Mercedes said. “Try to get a recipe if you find a favorite.” 

“Nothing will ever surpass your sweet buns,” he insisted. “The proof is right here.” He patted his stomach and winked. 

Mercedes blushed furiously. “Remember what you’re there to do, Sylvain. Enjoy your hosts’ hospitality—that’s part of diplomacy as well—but keep your focus on the goal.”

“You’re the best advisor I could have,” he said, serious now. “I’m going to miss you so much. I wish you could come with me.”

She wished she could accompany him on the journey as well, but she was needed at home. The orphanage she had worked so hard to set up in the castle town had just opened, and there was still much work to oversee. 

After breakfast, while Sylvain was tending to a few last minute issues, Mercedes wrapped up the rest of the batch of buns and set it aside. It was just about time. She took the sweet buns and made her way to the courtyard.

“Don’t suppose you saved those for me?” Sylvain said when she approached him. He leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead.

Mercedes tittered softly, “Of course they’re for you, who else?” She pushed the package into his hands, and Sylvain found room amongst his bags to stow it. He turned around to pull her into one last embrace and she rose up on tip-toe to kiss him. Dropping back down, she buried her face in his soft chest and tried to memorize the feel of him in her arms.

She released him and drew back, leaving her hand resting on his belly. He couldn’t quite hide the weight anymore, but his new clothes fit well and looked great, she thought. 

“Thank you,” he smiled, “try not to miss my dumb ass too much.”

“I’ll try, but I’m afraid I’ll miss that ass every day...and night.” His eyes widened at that, before a pleased grin split his face. They were both still getting used to her newfound boldness. “Have a good trip, and please be safe!” she said. “I love you.”

“Love you,” he said. 

Sylvain took the reins and swung up onto his horse, before turning around in the saddle to give one last wave to Mercedes. With a nod to his traveling companions he was off.

~

Sylvain arrived back in Gautier in a snowstorm, after dark, wind howling and icy flakes whipping against the castle windows as Mercedes worked on some embroidery. The snow had already started piling up. As soon as one of the staff informed her, she hurried along the halls and through the kitchens to the back door where she knew he would enter after stopping at the stables.

Mercedes had become increasingly worried over the past week or so as they neared the solstice, days shortening more and more swiftly, and a heavy sky threatening snow more often than not. He had sent word before setting out on the return journey and the thought of him out there as the weather turned ever colder had been concerning. 

He was nearly unrecognizable in all his furs, hood up, back turned to her, stomping snow off his boots and unfastening his coat. 

She stepped forward as he pulled the hood down, turning around. She was finally able to get a good look at him. He had grown a beard, which didn’t surprise her because all she had ever heard about Sreng was that it was bitterly cold. Mercedes reached up and ran her fingers over his dark red beard. The weary smile he gave her attested to how grueling his trek had been. 

“I made it,” he said, and gathered her up in an embrace. She slid her arms under his coat and pressed her face into the juncture between his shoulder and neck. 

“I’m so glad you’re home,” she said into the fabric of his shirt. It smelled of woodsmoke and a trace of something spicy. 

Mercedes tilted her chin up and met Sylvain’s lips in a chaste kiss that quickly turned hungry and demanding. She opened her mouth and angled her face to deepen the kiss, an airy desperate sound escaping her throat. Sylvain growled and ran his tongue across her lower lip and further into her mouth. Needing to catch her breath, Mercedes broke the kiss and pressed one last chaste peck to the corner of his mouth.

They released one another reluctantly so Sylvain could shrug out of his coat to hang it up and take his heavy boots off. The clothing that had been so impeccably tailored for him before the trip was ever so subtly more snug now, especially around the waist of his tunic shirt, which was belted under the belly that was undeniable now. 

“I’m sure you’re very tired,” she said, “so there’s no need to stay up. Let’s just get you to bed. Then we can stay in bed all morning and you can tell me all about the trip.”

They woke up the next morning to find Sylvain had gotten home just in time. Another day longer and the roads would have become impassable. As it was, they were certainly snowed in for the foreseeable future.

Sylvain lay in bed, wearing just his smallclothes. They had built a roaring fire and enjoyed the warmth while outside the clear day in the aftermath of the storm was surely frigid. 

Weak winter sunlight filled the room like a haze, reflecting off the blanket of fresh snow and illuminating the ceiling. The diffuse light gave his hair and skin a soft quality, the ginger hair that spread across his chest and trailed down toward his navel looked warm and golden red. He had cleaned up and trimmed the beard neatly, not quite ready to give it up as the winter weather took hold. 

Mercedes had called for breakfast to be brought to their room. The eggs and bacon had been finished, plates stacked on the serving cart. Sylvain was spreading Albinean berry preserves on a fresh bun and sipping bergamot tea. She curled up next to him, her cheek resting on his soft tummy, while she listened to his descriptions of Sreng. 

“So, they don’t grow a lot of crops up there, because that would require them to stay in one place for a long time, and they move regularly to graze the livestock.”

He paused to take a bite and Mercedes commented, “That must be a difficult life, never staying in one place long enough to farm!” 

“They do grow vegetables and things that can be harvested after a shorter period. And there are some areas they pass through each year where they can gather wild grains like this rice that grows in marshes. There are always different fruits they can gather when they are in season too.” 

He gestured with the butter knife before sticking it back in the jar. “But they always have their animals for milk, so they use a lot of dairy, especially for desserts.”

While they had eaten breakfast he had already filled her in on all the details of the people he had met, whose names she tried to remember and keep straight, and what they had discussed. The trip was a success, in Sylvain’s opinion, opening up communication and laying a foundation for further talks. Sowing peace would take years, of course, and he had only gotten to know a couple of the many nomadic groups that lived in Sreng. 

“It’s all very interesting—how different their world is to ours,” Mercedes said.

“They may live differently, but we have more in common than not,” Sylvain said before he shoved the last of the bun and jam in his mouth.

Mercedes nodded and said, “I’d love to try their food sometime.” 

Sylvain seemed to remember something suddenly and carefully slid out from under her to crawl out of their large bed. He dug through his still unpacked bags and held up a wrapped package. “I saved some candy they gave me and brought it back.”

He returned to lie next to her, propped up on one elbow, and held a bag open for her. Mercedes selected a candy and studied it for a moment before popping it in her mouth. It was mildly sweet, buttery, and creamy. She closed her eyes as it melted quickly on her tongue. 

“Oh,” she said, “that’s delicious.” 

Mercedes opened her eyes as she felt Sylvain’s lips brush her shoulder in a barely-there kiss. His arms wrapped around her and she relaxed back against his plush chest. He caressed the swell of her hip and slid further down over her stomach. She shifted closer against him, his erection pressing hard into her thigh, and she twisted around to meet his mouth in a slow, sweet kiss. 

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“More than ok.”

Mercedes loved long mornings of sensuous intimacy like this. It just felt right to wake up and pause before shouldering responsibilities and duties and just take some pleasure in one another. With activities coming to a standstill in the aftermath of the blizzard, they didn’t have any obligations just yet. 

He pulled her closer and spooned her. She pressed back against him, loving the way they fit together. His beard tickled as he continued to mouth at her neck and Mercedes squirmed. Her clit throbbed, but she couldn’t grind against him or get any friction in this position. 

Sylvain took his time, lazily running his palms over her body, finally cupping one breast and thumbing her nipple. He sucked one last mark into the side of her neck and licked over it before hooking his chin over her shoulder. 

“I’m gonna show you how much I missed you,” he said. 

“Please,” she responded.

She shivered in anticipation and began to sigh but it turned into a moan when Sylvain pulled up her nightdress and slipped his fingers into the wet of her arousal. Relaxing into it, Mercedes sank into the softness of the feather bed and pillows. Sylvain dipped one finger inside her and his thumb circled her clit, then he added a second finger. 

“Is this good?” he asked, his lips right next to her ear, and crooked his fingers inside her.

“Oh! Yes, just like that,” she breathed. He obediently stayed the course, bringing her closer and closer. She rocked her hips against his hand and then back into his cock. 

Sylvain moaned and said, voice husky, “Are you going to cum?”

“Ah, Sylvain, hahh,” Mercedes cried as she came. She tensed around his fingers as her legs went stiff, and then loose and boneless. Sylvain removed his hand and let her roll onto her back as he sucked his fingers clean. Goddess, she was so wet. 

She lay there for a moment, looking up at him and enjoying the afterglow, before running her hand along his flank. The sensation of his skin giving under the pads of her fingers was driving her wild again.

“Come here,” she murmured, squeezing him and trying to pull him toward her. He pushed his smallclothes down and his cock sprang up to rest against the curve of his belly. He groaned as he grasped himself and Mercedes bit her lip. “I want to feel you.”

Sylvain settled himself between her thighs. She nodded and he pushed in slowly, pausing once he had filled her to lean down and kiss her, soft and indulgent. His belly pressed into her own and she wanted her hands on him everywhere at once. 

He started to move and she hummed, sliding her hand down to grab his round ass. He pulled back and then pushed into her, and they found a languorous rhythm. Mercedes reached up and cupped his cheek, scratching lightly at his beard. He looked down and met her gaze, amber eyes half lidded and dark. 

“Fuck, Mercie,” he said, breathless. “Goddess you’re so beautiful.”

She shifted her hips and sighed as she felt him hit that one spot inside her that would bring her straight to the edge. His pace built and little huffs of breath escaped her each time he thrust into her. 

“Sylvain,” she keened, “Ohhh, yes…” Mercedes tangled their legs together, moving with him. She could feel another orgasm building, like a string stretched taut, and she bucked her hips up against him, meeting him as he slammed into her. Sliding her hand between them, she found her clit and circled it once, twice, and cried out as she came a second time. Sylvain’s movements stuttered as he felt her climax. 

“Mmmf.” He moved more and more erratically the closer he got, “Mm Mercie, I’m—” He started to duck his head, to bury his face into her neck, into the pillow, and she placed her hands on either side of his face. He closed his eyes and bit his lip as he came deep inside her. 

Mercedes kissed him softly and cradled him as he collapsed momentarily on her. “Oof,” she said as his full weight settled on her. 

He pulled out and shifted off her, letting himself be held in a one-arm hug and resting his head on her shoulder. “I guess I’m too heavy for that, huh?” he said in between deep breaths.

“Perhaps,” she said with a laugh, “but you know I love it.” She rolled onto her side and swung her leg over his hips to straddle him. She put her hands on either side of his belly and squeezed a little bit before leaning down and planting a kiss right in the center. 

“Well we’re both pretty lucky then, aren’t we?” Sylvain chuckled. “Who would have expected that?”

“Not me,” she smiled slyly, “until it happened.”

“You minx,” he threw his head back and laughed, “you— you sweet temptress of baked goods!”

“Hey now,” Mercedes said in mock indignation, getting up and jumping off the bed. “It’s how I show love! And you’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth, you know.”

Sylvain sat up and was about to chase after her but she was already coming back with one of the leftover sweet buns. “Yeah, those are the ones,” he said, pretending to be rueful but already licking his lips. 

“Mmm, you love it too,” she said, climbing back up onto the bed and sitting in his lap. 

“And this isn't going anywhere anytime soon, don’t worry,” Sylvain said. 

Mercedes captured his lips in a needy kiss, holding the sweet bun up and out of the way as he returned the kiss, crushing his mouth against hers. He pulled back and gave her his best puppy dog eyes.

“Gimme that,” he whined and Mercedes held it up to his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter! [@sweetbun_trio](https://twitter.com/sweetbun_trio)


End file.
